


Gestures

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Tries, Dean Needs Castiel, Dean Needs Love, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 13:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10492122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: There is something Dean wants, needs from him.He should have noticed this a long time ago, Cas berates himself, angry for not having done. It’s not like he can’t hear Dean’s every thought, after all; he should have known.And angel he may be, but it’s going to take something very human to set this right.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kansouame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansouame/gifts).



> Hello lovely kansouame, this is for you; some silly fluff! I apologise, I wrote it in a rush this morning so it's not been proofread as much as I would like. All the hugs for you xx

There is something Dean wants, needs from him.

He should have noticed this a long time ago. He should have, Cas berates himself, angry for not having done. He’s an angel, after all; it’s not like he can’t hear Dean’s every thought, even when he does attempt to tune them out for respect of Dean’s privacy.

He should have known. And angel he may be, but it’s going to take something very human to set this right.

The first clue was subtle, and yet, as he thinks about it, Cas realizes was also glaringly obvious. Dean sat in the Impala staring out wistfully at the small gathering of people, all beautifully dressed and radiating happiness, gathered under a shower of petals, whilst he and Sam returned from their own interviews with witnesses whilst on a case. Dean had smiled for them both when they’d climbed in, sighed as he’d taken another glance out of the window, then winked at Cas in the rearview before steering the car out onto the road. That wistful feeling Cas could still sense in Dean, even when they returned to their motel room to discuss what they had found and plan what to do next.

The second clue was also fairly subtle, Cas huffs to himself, remembering thinking how it was a little out of character for Dean’s eyes to move beyond the pies on display in the bakery they were picking up some lunch in, and instead rest on the ornately-decorated, multi-tiered cakes sat proudly in the window. Dean had scooped up the cake sample at the counter and hummed in approval around it, and Cas remembered that slight flare of jealousy that had hit him for thinking Dean was about to return the flirtatious look the assistant was giving him. He hadn’t, but he had glanced over at the cake display repeatedly as his fingers had twitched down by his side, as though he was debating on reaching out to tangle them through Cas’ own.

The third, Cas thinks, all kinds of furious with himself, was all his own doing. The three of them had been sat in a busy diner, squashed into one of the last booths there, far too small for their large frames. Dean’s leg was pressed firmly against his beneath the table, and his hand had repeatedly dropped to squeeze and rest on Cas’ thigh. Sam had snorted as the couple at the table across from them, their hands steepled together as they ate, unable to stop smiling at one another, and frequently leaning in for kisses, oblivious and uncaring of their audience. Cas had made a comment about unnecessary displays of affection when relationships were so often temporary, and the warmth of Dean’s palm on his leg had been rapidly replaced by the coolness of the air.

Cas rolls his eyes though there is no one there to see him doing it, groans at the gesture, then sighs, acknowledging that he’s far more human in his mannerisms than he’s ever been angel. He likes it, he thinks, smiling to himself, that smile disappearing again in an instant when he attempts to find a way to make things up to Dean, to make him understand.

In fairness, Cas begins telling himself, neither of them are that great at saying what they’re thinking. He and Dean know each other so well, that sometimes when they’re together, they can go hours without saying a single word, yet it still feels like they’ve had an in-depth conversation. They know there’s love there between them, both of them do; it’s in the way they touch one another, and the looks that speak volumes no words could ever manage to utter if said out loud. It’s in how they care for, and about each other, in ways that are effortless, because when love is like theirs, no grand gestures are really needed.

But, Cas considers, his shoulders slumping, that he knows Dean as well as he does, should also mean that he knows when Dean wants something but is afraid to ask for it out loud, or doesn’t believe he has the right to even want it. It’s why it took them an age to become what they are to one another now, and even that, them being together, was borne out of anger and misunderstanding. One harsh word too many blasted out in fear of Cas taking too many risks, one final sarcastic retort that had resulted in Dean glowering at him as though he thought he could smite _him_ , and there had been a flurry of movement. Grabbing hands, claiming lips, the thud that announced Cas had backed Dean up against the wall of his room in the bunker in his haste to get his point across.

Cas remembers that first kiss with fingertips traced over his smiling lips, and that smile widens at the memory of the subsequent conversation that had taken an age. It had been worth it, though, for the hesitant look of hope on Dean’s face once they’d finished, and the settled feeling in his own chest that should have been out of place—since an angel wasn’t ever meant to _want_ like Cas wants Dean—but instead just felt _right_. Like coming _home_ , even, and if that hadn’t been the strangest concept, Cas smiles again, sighing in a contentment he’s never known from anything but being with Dean.

Dean had grown up putting Sam first, and that selflessness had carried over into adulthood, where he put just about anything and anyone else’s needs before his own. Dean tells it different, Cas thinks to himself, shifting in discomfort for reminders of the way Dean used to be; endless drained whiskey bottles and numerous shared beds with faceless people, things Dean had sought out to chase away that empty feeling in himself. But Dean, Cas sighs, Dean really is selfless. He’s biased, perhaps, Cas shrugs to himself, but he doesn’t care; he loves Dean. Why would he waste a moment considering anything about Dean as a fault?

He loves Dean, Cas repeats to himself, that love like a light sparking into full brightness, first in his gut, then spreading out through every tendril of his being. He loves Dean; how did he manage to miss something Dean won’t admit to wanting? And more importantly, how is he going to fix this?

* * *

“Hey, Cas—”

Sam’s words twist up in surprise, but Cas is barely listening to him; he’s too preoccupied with Dean’s own surprise at Cas arriving unannounced in the bunker kitchen as he’s fixing breakfast, and before saying a single word leaning in and kissing him in greeting, none too subtly either. The spoon in Dean’s hand clatters to the counter as that hand raises in hesitance to cup Cas’ face, pulling him in to continue the kiss, which Cas does readily, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and humming in approval. The kiss goes on for several minutes, and is only broken when Sam clears his throat to get their attention. In fact when he’s done it several times.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas whispers when he eventually pulls back, echoing Dean’s cautious smile and squeezing a little tighter around his waist before deliberately sliding away his hands. Dean answers with a soft _hey_ that’s accompanied with that crinkling of his eyes he does, that Cas wishes he could put on Dean’s face every time he sees him.

“You want some breakfast?” Dean asks, slow in turning back to the counter. Cas leans forward to nuzzle against his shoulder and asks for coffee, smiling internally at the way Dean stiffens in surprise at the gesture.

“Just coffee,” Cas repeats before walking away, shrugging out of his trenchcoat and jacket to fold them over the back of a chair, then unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing up his shirt sleeves. He ignores the feeling of bewilderment emanating from Sam and instead makes idle conversation with him, all whilst he pulls plates and cups from the cupboard, sets condiments and cutlery out on the table as he’s seen Dean and Sam do a hundred times before. He pretends the gesture means nothing, but has to force back a burst of laughter at the confused look Sam’s giving him, and the pleased one he’s getting from Dean; Dean’s always, always telling him to make himself at home, and the occasions he does that are always guaranteed to put a smile on Dean’s face.

The three of them sit down to breakfast, with Cas curling one hand around his coffee and the other in a loose grip around Dean’s thigh as he eats. They discuss cases, where they’re planning on going next, what they have to do that day. Cas interrupts to announce he’s staying with them for a few nights, with _Dean_ ; it’s not as though he doesn’t stay fairly regularly, but it’s always been something that’s unspoken, that Sam knows but doesn’t say anything about. The look Dean gives him, Cas thinks, is beautiful.

Cas trails Dean through the bunker that morning as he goes about his chores, regularly stealing kisses and reaching out to touch him in some way; a hand resting on his lower back, a caress of his palm down his arm, a nuzzle to his shoulder. When Dean’s finished folding laundry, before he can pick it up to put away, Cas steps into his arms and hums his way into a hug.

“Not that I’m not loving this,” Dean whispers into his ear, which makes Cas tighten his grip around him and drop kisses into his neck, “but what’s gotten into you today?”

“I love you,” Cas replies, honest and simple, slotting his fingers through Dean’s and tugging until Dean knows to follow him, making him abandon the laundry to go to Dean’s— _their_ room, where he spends a good couple of hours showing Dean just how much he loves him.

When Dean’s rested, and Sam’s eyes have stopped darting to the hickey Cas has very precisely sucked into Dean’s skin just where it is peeking out from the edge of his t-shirt yet not glaringly obvious, they eat a quick meal then continue with their tasks. Cas spends a little time helping Sam with a translation of a text, and a lot more with Dean as he checks and cleans a stack of their weapons. A life without weapons, without _fighting_ , Cas thinks, sighing to himself, that’s what he wants for Dean, more than anything. Still, the smear of oil on his cheek and the sweat that is beginning to seep into Dean’s t-shirt are things he has no objection to seeing; Cas insists on joining Dean in a shower when they’re done, whispering for Dean to allow him to wash him, and pouring as much love into the gesture as he can.

Dean announces he wants pizza, and Cas casually suggests they go out to eat. Cas slides down into the passenger seat next to Dean with silent thanks to Sam for not objecting to being sprawled over the back seat, then rests his hand on Dean’s leg as he drives, smiling at the way Dean’s eyes keep dropping down to look at it as though he’s afraid if he doesn’t it might disappear. When they get out of the car Cas instantly grabs Dean’s hand, and they walk to the restaurant like that, still with Dean repeatedly glancing down at their joined hands.

Through dinner Cas is as attentive as he can be, having stored up a thousand views of the way people interact, and knowing exactly which things Dean would accept, which he’d be embarrassed by. But Cas is getting swept up in this as well, this deliberate displaying of his love for Dean, because the happiness it’s sending spilling from Dean is worth everything. In fact, Cas laughs to himself, most of what he’s doing really is effortless, as their love always is. He knows that brief swirl of his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand will earn him a smile. He knows when Dean stands to use the bathroom and rests his hand on Cas’ shoulder, that pressing a kiss there will earn him another. That when the waitress comes to check everything is okay with their meal, to wink at him at just the right moment that will make Dean blush, pause as though debating with himself, then lean across the table to steal himself a quick peck of a kiss.

On the way back to the bunker they stop for groceries. Cas pushes the cart as Sam and Dean fill it, laughing as they tease each other and argue over the things they’re buying and offering his own suggestions when they turn to him for a neutral opinion, siding with Dean each and every time. Cas thinks about the last time they went shopping together, how he and Dean had walked side by side but without touching, and how this time Dean is increasingly growing in confidence by running a hand down Cas’ back as he passes, or blatantly leaning in to kiss him. At the deli counter as Sam’s ordering, Cas pulls Dean in for a kiss that is probably a little inappropriate for such a public place, but the way he feels Dean’s heart surging, Cas decides, makes it worth it. They return to the bunker and unload the car, then Cas leads Dean straight to bed, smiling into the dark as Dean falls asleep in his arms.

* * *

Gestures, Cas thinks, this is all about gestures. Dean knows he loves him, that he doesn’t have to doubt that, and Cas also knows that he feels stupid for needing any outward confirmation of that fact. But he does need it, the gestures, the reassurance that despite not being so good with these things himself, Cas really does love him back. So he will give him that, as much as he can.

It’s been a few days now since Cas showed up in the bunker kitchen and claimed that kiss right there in front of Sam. It was a big deal as much as it was a small one, because Sam already knows how much they love each other, but normally they keep any displays of that love very definitely private. So to be so openly affectionate showed Sam—and Dean, Cas realizes with a smile, that Cas has every intention of staying with Dean, that he’s not keeping _them_ a secret out of any sense of embarrassment.

Since that gesture back in the bunker there have been countless others. They’ve kissed at red lights, leaned into one another in diner booths with no care for who is looking, and Dean’s even confidently crowded Cas back against the Impala as they’ve waited for Sam. Sam’s smirks have been growing increasingly wilder for it, and Cas kind of loves that too, especially for the torn expression on Dean’s face that says he doesn’t know whether he wants to blush for seeing those smirks, or square his shoulders in pride for having earned them.

Gestures, Cas thinks, watching Dean talking to a store owner as he places an order for some spell ingredients that won’t be ready for a few days, it’s gestures that he needs to be making. With determination, Cas walks up to Dean and announces he needs to step outside for a moment, then leans in for a lingering kiss, walking away with a smirk on his face for Dean’s startled though pleased reaction.

Out in the street Cas scours the view until he sees the jewelers he saw on the way in. He orders simple, matching wedding bands that they thankfully have the right sizes for already in stock, accepts the jeweler’s congratulations, then slides the ring box into his trenchcoat and steps back outside, blinking briefly into the sun. He’s thankful Dean is taking a little more time than he probably wants to be doing ordering the ingredients he needs, glad that Dean won’t have caught him coming out of the jewelers and that he won’t have to answer any questions.

From his perspective, Cas thinks, with a rueful smile, wearing a ring on his finger to show he is Dean’s and Dean is his, is nowhere near big enough a gesture to show his intention to spend his entire existence with Dean. Even when their human bodies eventually fail Cas knows they will be together, and perhaps that’s what the problem is for Dean; Dean can only see things from a human perspective, he can’t know what Cas knows about their entwined eternity. Cas can’t even give him a normal, _proper_ wedding to symbolize their time together here on Earth, he thinks then in sadness, given their hunting lives. But he can give him this.

When Dean is ordering food, Cas makes his excuses to be outside again. Dean looks at him suspiciously as Cas moves to leave the diner, but Cas leaning in to kiss him in reassurance smoothes out the frown ridging his brow. Cas heads to a bakery and smiles at the display, then returns to the diner to slide down opposite Dean in their booth, lacing their hands together across the table.

“You’re up to something,” Dean says, eyes narrowing in suspicion again, to which Cas can only shrug and smile, then lean in for another kiss.

* * *

Sam is just back from his morning run when Cas corners him. He’s breathless, absently stretching as he bends to the fridge to drag out a bottle of water that he half-drains in one long pull, then splutters in surprise when he turns to find Cas watching him.

“I did not mean to alarm you,” Cas tells him, contrite, though thinking that Dean might secretly be pleased to see how easily Sam is startled, “but I need your help,”

Sam’s eyes grow wider and wider as Cas explains what he wants, and when the final words pass his lips, Sam scoops him up into a big, sweaty hug that Cas takes to mean he approves of the idea. In fact, Sam approves of the idea so much, that a week passes with Sam looking at him as though he’s about to burst with excitement, and Cas wonders several times if he’ll even be able to keep this secret. But it turns out he can; because on a beautiful sunny morning just as they’ve planned, Sam talks a grumbling Dean into a case without even giving him the details of it, possibly helped by Cas’ frequent kisses to distract him.

They drive for a few hours, and Cas distracts Dean a little longer, in fact so much, that Dean’s a little too breathless to comment that Sam’s been gone far longer than is really necessary to pick up a few supplies. Dean drives to the address Sam’s given him without questioning it, staring out at the cabin they pull up outside of before turning to Sam and raising his eyebrows.

“So? What’s the deal? This place haunted or something?” Dean asks, but Cas turns to see Sam sat in the backseat practically vibrating with excitement and before saying a word, is up out of the car, gesturing for them to do the same.

Cas leads Dean around the back of the cabin to point out a view, taking just long enough to hear Sam dragging his purchases out of the trunk and taking them inside. He waits a moment longer, then squeezes Dean’s hand—that he hasn’t let go of for almost the entire drive there, leading him back around the cabin and through the front door.

When they step inside, the room seems charged with nervous, excited energy, and Cas surprises himself, by right then, in that moment, being a little nervous himself. They come to an abrupt stop, with Dean’s eyes narrowing further in suspicion as he takes in the way Sam appears to be blocking his view, and the eager look on his face that reveals that yes, Sam is very definitely up to something.

“Dean,” Cas says, turning to him and grasping at his other hand, swallowing hard, going over his rehearsed words a final time and hoping they come out right, “Dean. There is something I would like to share with you. Something that… that I believe you want to hear… _have_ , with me, that perhaps you believe you will not get to have. That I do not want,”

Dean’s gaze slides between Cas’ own eyes and Sam’s, his throat clicking and his grip on Cas’ fingers tightening a touch. “What thing?”

“First,” Cas says, making his words steady, “you know that I love you,” to which Dean nods in confirmation and mumbles, with only the slightest of looks in Sam’s direction, that he loves him back.

“I love you,” Dean says then in a rush, as though he’s fearful his first response wasn’t good enough, loud enough for Cas to hear. Cas resists the urge to lean in and kiss him for it.

“You should also know that it is my intention to spend whatever existence we have, by your side,” Cas adds, his own throat catching a little for the tiny spark of brightness his words put in Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, and if Cas’ heart doesn’t break for the hope in his voice, the fear that weaves through it, that says Dean doubted, as Cas had expected he had, that that— _he—_ is what Cas wants. When he is what Cas has always wanted.

“Yes,” Cas confirms, this time unable to stop himself leaning in for a kiss, then a hug, wrapping his arms around Dean and holding on tight, feeling his hot breath on his neck and closing his eyes to the relief that’s radiating out of him.

“Yes,” Cas repeats in a whisper when he pulls back from Dean, still grasping on to his hands, “I have already given you myself; I know of no other way to demonstrate that I am yours,”

Sam snorts and mumbles something far too inappropriate off to their side, receiving a joint glare from them both that makes him hang his head in remorse, then raise it again with a jubilant smile.

“But I will try. I will continue to show you what you mean to me,” Cas promises, watching the way Dean’s lip begins to tremble and having to lean in and kiss him for it.

“I would like us to wear these,” Cas adds when he pulls back, dropping Dean’s hand to slide the ring box from his pocket and cracking it open, watching the emotion ripple across Dean’s face, “if you would like,”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean breathes out in a soft blast, “yeah. I’d… I’d like that a lot,”

Relieved and telling himself he shouldn’t be, he should never have doubted in the first place, Cas pulls a ring from the box and carefully slides it down over Dean’s ring finger, squeezing around it and smiling as Dean sucks in a breath. He finds himself on the verge of tears watching Dean’s own shaky fingers reach out to repeat the gesture for him, and the weight of the ring now resting on his finger surprises Cas. He feels grounded by it, and a sense of belonging that seems far too big for the simplicity of the symbol they’ve just given each other.

“I cannot give you a traditional wedding,” Cas says then, sliding the box back in his pocket and taking up Dean’s hands again, “but I would like that we have a ceremony of sorts. A tradition,”

Sam takes his cue so perfectly, that Cas wonders how many times he’s rehearsed it; in his hand are several colored cords that he runs his nervous fingers through as his eyes dart up to Dean’s face in anticipation.

“This is called a handfasting,” Cas explains, nodding towards the cords, “it is a—”

“Pagan wedding ceremony,” Dean finishes for him, his words coming out choked as his grip tightens further still on Cas’ hands.

“Yes,”

“You want this with me?”

The disbelief in Dean’s voice is the undoing of Cas. Dean, who never thinks enough of himself, who never believes he gets to have good things, who never, despite all Cas has done to reassure him, truly accepts Cas loves him like he does. A sob erupts from Cas’ mouth as he steps forward and wraps Dean up in his arms, pressing kisses anywhere he can get to in his embrace.

“Yes,” he says, burying his face down into Dean’s neck, “yes, Dean. I want this with you. I want _you_ ; all of you. Always,” to which Dean bursts out with his own sob and pulls him in impossibly closer. It takes a few minutes for them to compose themselves, a few moments more for sweet, soft kisses, and when they finally step back just enough to beam at each other, they turn as one to catch Sam grinning at them triumphantly.

“So,” he says, stepping forward with the cords extended towards them, “we gonna do this?”

When Dean nods, Sam clears his throat, and Cas watches him take a couple of breaths to steady himself, as though he’s choking back his own happy tears.

“So,” he repeats, and Sam’s voice is now a little more formal, “Cas. Dean. You have chosen to conclude your ceremony with a traditional handfasting. This is a symbolic binding of the hands as a sign of your commitment to one another. The cords are not permanent, but perishable as a reminder that all things of the material eventually return to the earth, unlike the bond and the connection that is love, which is eternal. Give me a minute,”

Cas laughs softly as he watches Sam reach up and wipe tears away from his eyes with the back of his hand, before clearing his throat again and nodding.

“Hold out your hands for me,” Sam instructs, and Cas clasps Dean’s hand firmly in his and extends them in Sam’s direction. Sam grins, then with a look of nervous determination on his face reaches out with the cords, wrapping them around their wrists to form the infinity symbol. Sam turns his head from side to side, inspecting his work, and holding the ends of the cord to keep them in place, nodding to himself again.

“Alright. Not like you guys need an excuse,” Sam teases, “kinda time for you to kiss right about now,”

Cas beams at him, then with his free hand cups Dean’s face and pulls him into a kiss, pausing only to wipe away the tears now on Dean’s cheek and to laugh as Dean does the same for him.

“Now,” Sam says, getting their attention again, “Dean. Cas. These cords are a symbol of the lives you have chosen to lead together. Up until this moment, you have been separate in thought, word and action. As your hands are bound together by this cord, so too, shall your lives be bound as one. May you forever be one, sharing in all things, in love and loyalty for all time to come. And, uh… that’s it,” he finishes with awkwardly, his eyes darting between them both.

Dean’s eyes widen in realization, as though the idea has literally just sunk in for him. They fall over the cords still binding them, then up to Sam’s face in surprise.

“I… I just got hitched,” he says in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Sam huffs, smiling, “I was kinda there for that—”

But Sam’s words are cut off by Dean pulling Cas to him and kissing him hard, so thoroughly, and with such love, that for a moment, both he and Cas forget that Sam’s still stood there, less than a foot from them and still holding on to the ends of those cords, leaning slightly back from them as they kiss, but grinning at them helplessly all the same.

“I love you,” Dean repeats, mumbling it into Cas’ lips before claiming another kiss that Cas is more than happy to return, “I’m always gonna love you,”

“I have always loved you,” Cas replies, smiling, pulling Dean more securely into his arms and feeling home.

When they pull away from each other this time, Sam turns on his heel and steps to the side, revealing the table he’d been shielding from Dean’s view. In the center is a replica of the pie tower Cas had seen in that bakery window, and to its side, two six packs of Dean’s favorite beer, along with plates, forks and napkins.

“Place is yours for the week,” Sam adds with an arm swept around the room. Cas turns to him in surprise; he’d asked Sam to perform the ceremony, to pick up the pies he’d ordered, and to find somewhere for them to do this. But he hadn’t expected any more than that. “Think of it as your wedding gift,” Sam adds with a wink. Dean reaches to hug him first, but when Sam pulls Cas in for his turn, he mumbles things about how proud he is to have him as a brother, and Cas finds himself tearing up all over again.

The afternoon is spent eating pie and drinking beer, exploring the cabin, and Sam pointing out the kitchen he’s stocked up for them, then making gagging noises as he waves a hand in the direction of bags he’s left on their bed, that Cas presumes must be clothes and toiletries for Dean. Sam leaves them just as it’s getting dark, saying he’ll come and pick them up when they’re ready, rolling his eyes at Dean’s instructions to take care of the Impala. And then they’re alone, with nothing to think about but each other for the coming week. No outside distractions, no hunts to plan, no people to save. Just them.

Cas smiles as Dean pulls him into his arms and sings softly in his ear as they turn in a small circle in the living room, with their dancing soon replaced with a kiss that starts tender then becomes more heated and demanding. There are things they need to say, so many things, but, Cas thinks, they have an entire week ahead of them to find the words. For him to reassure Dean that the only thing he sees in his future is him.

“Are you ready to begin your forever with me, Dean?” Cas asks softly, his fingers slotting through Dean’s, and already enjoying the feel of the ring he put there on his hand. Dean smiles, then leans in for another kiss.

“Thought I already had,” he whispers against him, pulling back to give him a look filled with such love, that Cas feels himself tearing up all over again.

Cas squeezes his fingers, then gestures towards the stairs, before tugging and pulling him in their direction, turning out the lights as they go.


End file.
